The Order
by Mrs. Peeta Mellark 74
Summary: AU: "It's called the Order," he says. "A mass genocide on innocent civilians to control the world's population." In the near future, Katniss and Peeta are forced to survive under unimaginable circumstances while also protecting those they love.
1. The Noise

**A/C: Hey guys! This will be my first action/adventure fanfic I've ever written on this site. I'm a young, aspiring author and I absolutely love constructive criticism, so please be sure to send me review to aid me with my writing skills!**

 **This fanfic will be a dystopian AU, and I'll try to keep on canon with the personalities of the characters. I'm aiming for around 15 chapters of this story, if not a bit longer. I don't really have an updating schedule, but I'll try to update at least twice or thrice a month. Honestly, it depends on my work load at school.**

 **This story is an Everlark, maybe a bit of Everthorne, but Everlark will be end-game. I rated it T because there will be some mature language and violence.**

 **This chapter will be a bit short, I just wanted you guys to a have peek of what's to come.**

 **I own nothing, all property belongs to its rightful owners.**

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The day drawls on, as per usual. In the suburbs of Sans Francisco, the days are lively with cars bustling about and teenagers racing through the side walks on their skateboards. One may think I would become accustomed to these loud noises after living in this area for my entire life, but instead I'm sick of it. Everyone, and _everything_ , is too noisy. Dare I say it, but I would leave here if I could. I would probably take off into the woods, and live a simpler life hunting for food and trading goods. That's not the case, however. Instead, I have to deal with teenage brats and rich guys with a total IQ of 40. I almost snort at the situational irony as a reckless pre-teen whizzes past me on his roller blades, and our bodies nearly collide. I lose my balance as I jump to the curb, and I drop to my knees. I can hear his laughter off in the distance as I scowl in his direction, wiping off the dust from my already worn-down jeans. I was hoping I wouldn't have to take a trip to the coin laundry this early, but looks like I have to.

With that being said, now I'm pretty sure you know why I hate it here. And _you_ \- and also admittedly myself - couldn't imagine things getting worse for me. Surely, haven't I had enough? My parents passed away four years ago because of a car crash, and I only recently obtained custody of my younger sister. In addition to that, I'm the sole provider of our household, trying to make a living as a Loblaw's cashier and custodian at a middle school. I don't even have my _high school_ diploma, let alone any post-secondary school education, to go up the ranks at any work establishment. The only thing that is making my life any bearable is Prim.

Prim.

I almost smile at the thought of her. The very mention of her name alone causes me to relax. She's smart, beautiful, kind and generous. Basically, she's everything I'm not. I have high expectations for her, because I know she can achieve a lot if she works hard enough. That is why I'm working day and night, so that she can have the future I never had. Or never will have.

But then, as I stand in front of our old building complex, I am reminded why we are here in the first place. I quickly punch the elevator's "up"button, and scurry inside. I'm squished between an odd smelling man and an eccentric looking woman, who is adorning a purple wig. Again, everyone is so _loud_ and I want to bang my head into oblivion. Why is _everyone_ so loud today, any way? So I cannot reiterate how grateful I am to escape this position, now that my floor has come.

I sigh heavily, trying to compose myself before I enter home. I don't want to make Prim stressed out because I'm stressed out. So I repress all my feelings of anger, frustration, anxiousness deep inside of me, only to be recalled late at night. I brace myself against the door, then I twist the doorknob open. The stuffiness of our small apartment welcomes me, instantly giving me a migraine. Biting my lip, I step into the living room and drop my backpack onto the floor. Then, I quickly walk towards the window, and pull it open. Although it is already hot outside, I prefer the fresh air over the mugginess inside home. After, I collapse onto the sofa, closing my eyes and trying to relax myself before my evening shift.

But then Prim comes prancing along, squealing at such a high pitch that I'm sure only dogs could hear. I snap my eyes open, and look at her warily. "Hey, Prim," I mumble.

She is smiling wildly, and exclaims, "He kissed me!"

I sit upright. I narrow my eyes at her, preparing myself to kick any boy's ass who touched my little sister, with her consent or without it. I haven't had my first kiss yet, and I'm 20. And _Prim_ , who is only a mere _15_ , had hers?! She's far too young to have a boyfriend, and I know how teenage boys think at this age. I've heard enough whispers in the hallways to know that. "Who?" I snap.

"Rory," she says dreamily. Her blue eyes flutter closed, almost as if she were dreaming about her stupid kiss.

I snort. Yeah, I should have saw this coming. The Hawthornes and us have been close for the longest time, and it's hard to miss all the puppy faces the two youngest have been giving each other. The eldest Hawthorne boy, Gale, is my friend. We always joked that we would finally become into brother-sister once they get married. But we were never serious about that, well, at least not myself. "You're too young to date, Prim," I state.

"But I'm in the tenth grade now, Katniss! I'm no longer a kid," she shakes her head vigorously, her blond braids whipping side to side.

Rolling my eyes, I respond, "Then why do I constantly have to tell you to tuck in your shirt?" Prim scowls. " _Little duck_." Her scowl deepens at the comment, but from her eyes I can tell she's enjoying this.

A moment later, she joins me at the couch and continues with her speech."Katniss, I didn't even know he was going to kiss me! It was all so sudden and unexpected, but then he..." she rambles on, but I tune out. I usually pay attention to what she's saying, but when it comes to girl stuff ... well, I'm not the best person to talk to. And honestly, I simply don't feel like talking today. So I just nod, include a "yeah" if and when appropriate. When I'm sure she has talked my ear off, she suddenly says, "Hey, what's that?"

I turn my head, and look to where she's pointing. My eyes follow to the window, where I see a few helicopters whizzing by in the distance. "Helicopter, Prim," I state, baring my uninterest.

"Yeah, but it's strange seeing so many," she replies.

Cracking my knuckles, I say, "It doesn't matter. Any way, come help me with dinner."

We get up from the living, and within a few steps we make it to the kitchen. Our kitchen is embarrassingly very small, almost a third in size of what ours used to be in our childhood home. The one we lived in while our parents were still alive.

I scold myself internally, and force myself to forget about those memories. Time has passed, and we need to move on. We can't constantly dwell on things of the past, when there are many issues worthy of our attention at the moment. So I make my way to the old, metal sink, and I clean my hands with cold water and dishwasher soap. Prim does the same. We cut the carrots in a comfortable silence, and I'm thankful that I have a minute of rest for my ears. We then chop some onions and green capsicum, and throw all the vegetables into a pot. Prim fills the pot with water, and we bring the soup to a boil. I toss in bits of chicken half way through the cooking time, and then a bit of corn starch to thicken the soup a bit. Half an hour passes, and then we deem the soup ready. We take out metal bowls, and pour into some soup for each of us. We take our dinner to the couch, since we don't have a dining table. I turn on the old, battered television in the corner of the room, and we watch Jeopardy in silence.

I'd like to say that today was uneventful. A normal day at best. But then there's a power outage.

The television shuts down. We are left watching our reflections on the dark screen. I get up, and crane my neck to peer into the kitchen. The light that was once on is now off. "Power outage," I mutter. Prim frowns, and murmurs something about finishing her homework in her bedroom. She escapes the living room, and I'm left scanning the apartment to find out what the source of the outage may be.

It's still bright outside, so it's no big deal for us. There's probably repair or something in our building, and we'll get electricity in no time. Besides, this outage means a smaller electricity bill for us today. Now, Prim can focus on just her homework instead of being addicted to those baking YouTube channels. I'm just worried about the night time, when it will be insanely dark without a blink of light...

I spend the rest of my remaining two hours on the couch, reading a book I've already read more than once. Too many times to count, actually, but that usually is the only leisure activity I get if I had a wee bit of time for it. I can't really focus on the words though, and I don't know why. Something feels heavy at the pit of my stomach, and suddenly I wonder if the chicken was fully cooked or not.

Two hours later, the electricity doesn't return. I get up, and move to the window. The nearest intersection is managed by a police-officer. The traffic lights don't work. Maybe it's because of a city power outage? Yeah, that's probably it. A construction accident, or maybe equipment failure. Who knows?

My thoughts are interrupted by a loud alarm. Prim comes rushing in, and she's saying something I cannot decipher. Is it coming from our apartment or outside? I shut the window, and although the noise is still deafening, it's a bit quieter.

So it's coming from outside.

Where the hell is it coming from? I scan outside with Prim by my side. It certainly can't be coming from any emergency services, like the police or ambulance. This is a noise I have never heard before. It's a painful, screeching sound, and I have to place my palms over my ears to spare my eardrums. A few hours ago I was complaining about the honking of cars and people talking, but I'd prefer those sounds over this damned alarm. Everyone on the street is looking confused, some people come out of their cars to find out where's it coming from. It fills the entire city, not only with its deafening noise but with fear and uncertainty.

The same helicopters Prim had pointed out earlier now surround the city, except in larger numbers.

And that's when all hell breaks loose.

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 **Please be sure to check out my other fanfics - "You Found Me" and "Play it Again"! YFM is very angsty, and PIA is more fluffy.**

 **Until next time!**

 **-Alina**


	2. The Journey

**A/C: I just really couldn't wait to post this chapter, so here you guys go!**

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When Mom and Dad died, I saw the life drain from Prim's eyes.

Those blue eyes were usually so bright, but then they dulled and became glassy with tears. I gripped onto her arm as we watched our parents on those hospital beds, with their oxygen masks on. But only fifteen minutes later, they didn't need them any more. Because they were already dead.

She didn't sob, but those tears would escape for her eyes and streak along her cheek. Except neither Mom and Dad were there to wipe them away.

So now, as we watch those helicopters launch missiles onto innocent civilians, I once again see that look on her face. The look of distress, loss, and helplessness. Sure, she is young, but she is not naive. She knows that we have to leave our home once more. She doesn't so much put up a fight as I order her to leave the house. I grab my wallet along with me, which contains a bit of money and pictures of our family, along with the mockingjay pin Dad gifted me on my sixteenth birthday.

I take her arm, and pull her along with me. "We have to be quick, Prim! We don't have time," I yell at her. I wish I could be more sympathetic to my only sister, but now's not the time to tend to wounded feelings. We have to keep moving before a missile is launched to our building. And I can't bear to bury another family member. Fortunately enough, Prim does walk quicker. We race down the flight of stairs, careful not to bump with the other families who seem to be also taking this route. Confusion sweeps throughout the building, there's babies crying and parents screaming for their children to hurry. No one knows what's going on. I have to clutch onto Prim's hand so I don't lose her in this crowd. Prim nearly trips on a step when a young man pushes her to the side. Scowling, I bring her closer as we speed our way down the first floor.

The foyer is packed. However, we manage to squirm through the bodies and exit from the front door. Upon exiting the building, I finally realize I've made a mistake. We are completely visible and vulnerable to the missiles now. We need something above our heads, but I don't even have a car. My heart thumps rapidly against my chest, taking in the situation ahead of us. There is broken glass scattered on the street, a few cars collided into each other, along with bloodied bodies sprawled on the pavement. I look away when my eyes find a decapitated man, whose head is found on the other side of the intersection.

The noise continues to ring throughout the city, so I have to put my mouth near Prim's ear to speak to her. "Stay close. Follow me." Prim nods, her eyes still wide with fear. I clutch onto her arm, and we walk against the building's walls, taking cover if and when a missile is to explode. We quickly scamper to the back of the building, where a large fire is revealed off into the distance. My heart plummets as I hear loud screams of wounded children and their desperate parents. But we don't have time for heroic acts, we need to get the hell out of this place. I don't know where we going, as long as we're far away from here. So I lead Prim across the main intersection, and we take cover under another building. But the noise is becoming louder, and it seems there is no escape from it. The helicopters continue to secure the sky.

Suddenly, I feel an arm clamp over my shoulder. I spin around, and I find a middle aged man, with dull blonde hair and cold blue eyes. Haymitch. "You girls come with me!" the man screams into my ear. I've also met him a handful of times, but I know he could be trusted. He was my father's friend, and if my father could trust him, so could I. I haven't seen him since the funeral though, but every now and then he would come to our apartment to give us some company. Although I can't personally say that I like him, especially since he seems to be drunk with a hand gripping a vodka bottle every time I see him, I know he's the only help we got.

We scurry behind him as he leads us to the main road. He walks at a fast pace, but we manage to keep up. Strangely, he seems to be leading us right where we the trouble is at. Why is he taking us to the fire? "Haymitch, what are you doing?" I scream at the top of my lungs. Somehow, he manages to hear and me and turns around. He says something along the lines "trust me", and turns his back. Prim gives me a worried look, but I nod at her. We follow him along, and as the smoke concentrates the air, we decide to place our shirts over our noses. The temperature increases to burning, and my eyes begin to water. There may be a few cuts on my feet due to all the glass I've stepped on. There's blood streaked on the sides of the road, and there are bodies still shaking on the ground. Everyone seems to be going to the opposite direction that we're going, and for a moment I question whether Haymitch is really to be trusted or not. We get closer and closer to the destruction, and my knees begin to shake. A few hours ago I was complaining about this city, but I would do anything for everything to go back to normal. The skies are orange, angry with the smoke and fire that spreads up to the heavens. I pray to God so that I could wake up from this hellish nightmare.

However, I notice that those blasted helicopters are no longer on top of us. Instead, they seem to be following the rest of the population. Smart.

Haymitch then takes a sharp right. We go around the growing fire, but it becomes harder for us to breathe. At one point Prim screams for him to stop. Prim places her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. I rub her back, telling her to compose herself quickly so we could get going. Although I'm grateful for this short break, we don't have a moment to spare. Haymitch eyes us impatiently, yelling at us to hurry. I tug onto Prim sleeve, and drag her along as he continues down the road.

But then, I see something I wished I didn't see.

If I just _ignored_ that boy on the ground, whose back is leaned over the corpse of three men, I wouldn't have stopped. But I couldn't help myself. I knew this boy, I could point him out from the distance. With his curly blond hair mopped over his forehead, his broad shoulders, and those crystal blue eyes. I've memorized the very appearance of him. He was heaving over them, and I knew he was going to collapse at any given second. I yelled at Prim to follow Haymitch, and that I'll catch along soon. Prim mouths me to stay, but I ignore her. I can't let him die, because he didn't let me die. He saved me. And it is about time I repay this debt.

I rush over to him, and I pull on his shoulder. He turns around, his eyes full with question. There are tears running down his cheeks, and my heart immediately feels for him. I know how it's like to lose my family. "Peeta," I say, my voice muffled under my shirt. "Come with me." There's a large gash on his jaw, along with smaller cuts on his hands. His face is dusty and dirty. I motion him to place his shirt on his nose, but he doesn't comply. "It's me, Katniss!" His eyes are full of recognition, but he does not move an inch.

"They're dead," he whispers hoarsely. "They're gone." His hands shake, and his lip quivers.

The alarm continues to blare. "They wouldn't want you to kill yourself. There's nothing for you to do. Come with us!" I am pleading with him, because I can't live with the knowledge that I let him die when I could have saved him.

Haymitch screams at me hurry, but I'm not leaving without him. I pull his arm roughly, bringing him to his feet. Haymitch and Prim soon come along, and they help him stand. Peeta eyes are full of bewilderment as he stares ahead at the collapsed building before him. The sign lying a few metres ahead of us read "Mellark Bakery". A few small fires burn on the ashes of the bakery. Then he screams. He thrashes away from us, and drops to his knees. He repeats "Dad", "Bannock", and "Rye"over and over again. Haymitch then picks him up, and drags him along. Peeta tries to resist, but then he becomes so tired he relents. At one point he releases himself from Haymitch's grip, and follows us along without a word.

I walk with Prim, an she gives me a strange look. We will undoubtedly talk about this later. A half an hour passes, and we are no longer in the danger zone anymore. There not a single soul around us. The roads are bare, with only a few unharmed cars at the sides. It seems to be a ghost town. Although the alarm continues to sound, I can tell we are now safe. The helicopters are far away from us, so I no longer have to worry about any missiles launching at us. But despite all this, I cannot help my legs and hands from shaking.

At one point, Haymitch stops mid-step. We are facing a forest, which contains old oak trees with green leave sprouting from them. It does not seem very lush, but it does appear to be secluded from the outside world. There are no pathways, we simply have to step over a fence to enter. "We're going in," Haymitch states. For a moment I'm hesitant. Do I really want to go in? But if I don't, where will we go? Peeta exchanges a look with me, and I can also tell he's considering this. His tears are dry, and he looks more aware of his surrounding now. I nod at him, trying to reassure him that we should trust him. "Come along." So we step over the wooden face, and carefully forge into the woods. Prim has a death-grip on my hand, clearly nervous about our new journey. I dig into my pocket, and hold onto the mockingjay pin Dad had given me. It gives me a bit of hope.

We step into the forest the moment the alarm stops. We turn around, and look out into the distance. The down-town area is now flooded with helicopters above them, like a band of bees. And then suddenly, a few missiles drop onto the buildings. We watch as everything explodes.

Smoke rises to the sky like a mushroom cloud. Haymitch screas something unintelligible, and grabs onto our arms and pulls us inside. We run through the woods, dodging the tall trees and prickly bushes. Peeta trips over a log, but he immediately gets up and continues to run with us. The forest is dark, and there seems to be no life inside. The dirt is dry and hard, which sends dust flying every time we step onto it. "Keep running!" Haymitch screams. We continue to follow his steps., but then suddenly he stops. "Where are they, where are they, where are they?!" he screams, clearly frustrated. "Finnick! Beetee!" He takes a sudden left, and he takes us across a dirty stream. There are a few empty cola cans, along with KitKat wrappers. A few minutes later, a small wooden cottage is revealed in front of us.

For a second I worry he may be a serial killer. Why the hell did Haymitch take us here? But no, Haymitch wouldn't hurt us. He cares for us, that's why he came to save us. So I follow him as he barges through the rickety door. Peeta, of course, is hesitant, but he also comes along. Once we enter, I scan our surroundings. The inside of the cottage is wet and dark, but there is a light at the very corner of the room. There, four faces are illuminated by the light, bodies hunched over a small candlelight. The wooden floorboards creak as we walk to them. Prim holds my hand, and Peeta follows closely behind.

One man gets up. His shadow is tall, muscular and firm. Even though I can't see his face, I can tell he is smirking by his words. "Welcome to the apocalypse, kids." His voice rough, probably due to all the smoke and the running he had to do to get here.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask. I really can't deal with a conspiracy theorist's little meeting right now, and certainly not feeling like to talking to one.

"Name's Finnick Odair," he says. He steps forward, and brings out his arm. I don't shake his hand.

There's an awkward silence for a moment, but then Haymitch guffaws. "Sweetheart, we're going to be one big family from now on. Believe it or not, we have to stick together in order to survive."

"What's going on?" Peeta finally speaks. "Like for one moment I'm just working in the kitchen, and then the next I'm picking up the dead bodies of my father and brothers. And then _you_ -," he points at me, "come along from nowhere and take me _here_." He takes a deep breath, and says, "Why am I here, anyway?"

Quite frankly, I have no idea what's going on either. It's a surprise for all of us. We've been taken out of our daily routine and then thrust into these unimaginable circumstances. What was that noise? Why did those helicopters kill innocent civilians? Who were in those helicopters? And _who_ are there people? "Haymitch, help us out here. Tell us what's going on."

"Take a seat, kids," a voice echoes from the back. "It'll be a long story." Peeta, Prim, and I move slowly towards them. Once I get closer, I am finally able distinguish their faces. There's a petite young woman, who has auburn hair and green eyes. There's also a middle-aged man, dark-skinned with glasses. And finally a mean-looking woman, who seems to be only a few years older than me, with a pixie-cut and dark eyes. I take a seat next to the petite young woman, and I make Prim sit next to me.

"Well, I'll get straight to the point," the man with glasses says. "There was a mass genocide on the people of this state."

The statement sends a chill along my spine. "Why? Who did it?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Our very own government did," he states, his expression unreadable.

The woman with the pixie-cut scoffs. "They've been planning it for years, actually, and only now they've decided to make a move. They're pathetic excuses of human beings, murdering innocent women, men and children."

"Why would they murder their own people?" Prim asks slowly. Her voice is hollow and quiet, clearly haunted by the images she has seen only moments before.

Haymitch gives a solemn look. He takes a deep breath before replying, "It's called the Order."

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 **A/C: I changed the title because I found this one more fitting. I'll need to adjust the summary also.**

 **I hope you're enjoying it so far!**


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